


Along for the Ride

by stifledlaughter



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Comedy, Deep Dish Nine, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 12:27:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2507810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stifledlaughter/pseuds/stifledlaughter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Julian takes Garak along to deliver pizzas. </p><p>Deep Dish Nine AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Along for the Ride

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tinsnip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinsnip/gifts).



It was always a game of not looking at the clock on the days that Garak was to meet with Julian later. Every time the needle flashed up and down in the dress he was working on, and every time the sewing machine stuttered over a piece of particularly thick fabric, he always glanced at the clock hoping that time had passed faster than normal. It was illogical but so was his relationship with Julian. Why would this little speck of starshine bother spending any time with him when there were many attractive women that he could easily have? (With the help of a few ironed shirts and maybe non-sneaker shoes…)

So as irrational as it was, he hoped time would speed by, but it did not. So he threw himself into his work, reasoning that if he got caught up deep enough in the details of this mother-of-the-bride dress, he wouldn’t be anguishing over the slow passage of seconds. With the weapon of a needle in his hand, he plunged into the work with fervor.

Which is why, several non-counted minutes later, he startled in his seat at the sound of incredibly loud honking outside of his shop. _“Ter e’Gir-!“_ he swore in Kardasi, yanking the needle out of the dress and avoiding a major mishap on the dress hemline. He dropped the needle and stomped outside, ready to give the person who was _still honking_ a piece of his mind-

But all of that whooshed out the window, simply flew out, when he saw who was driving the (incredibly beat up) car that pulled over in the bus lane outside of Garak’s shop.

“Hey Garak!” shouted Julian from inside the car. “I know we’re meeting at 5, but I’m doing delivery the last hour. D’ya wanna come along?” There was loud techno music blasting out of the car, something in- Trill? Where did he find Trill techno music? _Jadzia. Of course._

“Julian-“ Garak cast a look back at his shop, torn between more time with Julian and responsibilities. He ought to say no, thank you, and that he had much to attend to, I will see you at 5-

But Julian was wearing his incredibly tacky Deep Dish Nine hat with the red rim and weird space-station logo, the hat that squashed down his little curls. And he was leaning out of the window, the _horrible_ red polo shirt getting old mud on it from the side of the awfully dirty car. Julian looked up hopefully at Garak with a huge grin.

Garak’s resolve was crumbling faster than one of the oh-so-enticing cookies from Nebula Coffee.

“I don’t believe Mr. Sisko would… approve of you taking a non-staff member along on deliveries,” hedged Garak, trying to use the rules, for once, to his advantage.

“Oh, well, what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.” Julian flashed a huge grin and motioned for Garak to come in. “Come on! I know that the dresses you’re working on are for a wedding in two weeks. That gives you time. Close up early and come have fun with me.”

“Absolutely not.”

\--------------------------------- 

 

“So we have five deliveries to make,” said Julian as he pulled away from Garak’s shop, the slamming drops of the Trill techno music rattling the car. Garak looked around suspiciously at the contraption- it was scuffed and not at all beautiful in a conventional sense, and for some reason he had the odd feeling of being in a war tank. The car was blocky, a dull gray color, and there were several suspicious buttons that indicated that the car, when provoked, could likely fight back. The smell of pizzas was overwhelming, like a cloud of marinara and dough infiltrating all of Garak’s senses.

“Man I’m so glad you came along, Garak, deliveries are just more fun with someone else there.” Julian turned to Garak and flashed another smile, similar to the one that had drawn Garak into the death trap of a car in the first place.

“My pleasure…” Garak began to inspect the buttons that were not standard in cars. “Julian, do you know what these buttons do?”

“Ah… well… me, no, but Worf installed them after The Incident.” Julian checked his mirror and changed lanes, narrowly missing hitting the car right behind him. “Oh- dammit- SORRY!” he shouted out the window. “But yeah, no one but Worf and Mr. Sisko know what they do.” The wind rushed through his hair as he bobbed his head along to the screeching, thumping, banging sound of Trill techno.

“The Incident?” The car swerved around a squirrel making terrible life choices in the middle of the road, and Garak stiffened, his hands quietly clawing at the side pocket in the door stuffed full of pizza takeout menus and receipts.

“We’re not legally allowed to talk about it, but the JemHadar didn’t press charges so it looks like all’s well that ends well… look, we’re at the first house!” He jerked the car over, and Garak grabbed the “oh shit” handle fiercely, clinging tightly to his new plastic savior as they pulled over to the side of a very scrubby lawn.

“Be right back!” called out Julian cheerfully as he pulled several pizzas out of the backseat. He slammed the back door (and the odd _chonk!_ noise was nothing to be worried about, Garak hoped). So Garak sat in the car, watching Julian bounce up to the door ( _bouncing he really bounces when he’s excited, who_ does _that)_ , hand the pizzas to the woman who answered, and then _bounced_ back. “One down, four to go!”

And so it went, each delivery quick and painless (for the customer and Julian anyway- Garak was getting a bit carsick on the swerves). Garak suspected the combination of speed and Julian’s energy (and smile) contributed to the growing wad of cash in his pocket. “Do you normally get this many tips? Why not do delivery more often?”

“I get more doing delivery than serving, but Worf has main claim to delivering so I normally don’t get the chance.” He jerked the car around a huge pothole in the street, and Garak gripped the ‘oh shit’ handle even more tightly then before, briefly getting flashbacks to some of his more dangerous missions. “Oh wow, that could have been bad if we hit that! Mr. Sisko said he wouldn’t fund any more repairs on the Defiant unless it wasn’t able to run, and I’d hate to have to fix any tire problems myself.” Garak looked around briefly at the interior of the car and mused that the whole thing might as well be held together by the sheer force of Mr. Sisko’s will.

“Okay, great, the last one,” said Julian happily. Garak looked at the house and grimaced- it was a wreck. Trash strewn about in the yard, blood wine bottles and cans piled up on the front porch, and Klingon House symbols on flags in the windows.

“Oh, it’s the University’s Klingon frathouse,” said Julian, getting out of the car and grabbing the pizzas. “I’ll be back in a minute-“

“Let me come with you.” Garak slid out of the passenger side seat, flexing his right hand (which was cramped from gripping the grab handle so tightly). Something about the house was setting him off, and he wanted to be sure that Julian was in no danger.

“Uh, sure, if you want to.” Julian headed up to the door, trying to find the sidewalk that was overtaken by weeds. The house didn’t seem abandoned as much as neglect had become its main aesthetic.

“Klingons… no taste,” muttered Garak as he followed closely behind Julian, nudging aside blood wine bottles with his impeccable boots.

Julian knocked on the door, and after several seconds, received no answer. He knocked again, his face scrunching up in confusion as he again received no response. “Maybe they’re out back.” He knocked a third time, but barely finished the second tap before the door swung open.

“NaDevvo' peghoS!” snarled the Klingon, a brash young man wearing little more than a ripped t-shirt and shorts. Another young man behind him was similarly dressed, and they both were wielding bat’leths, clearly in the middle of an important diplomatic matter being dealt with in Klingon tradition. Garak noted that the young man’s pupils were dilated in the infamous Klingon bloodlust, and he instinctively began to pick out the Klingon weak points should anything come to blows.

“Uh… pizza?” Julian tried weakly, a bit put off by the bat’leths covered in what he hoped was gagh. Very drippy gagh.

“NaDevvo' PEGHOS!” screamed the Klingon, and he swung his weapon, and Garak moved to yank Julian out of the way, but, in a surprising turn of events, Julian sped unnaturally quickly out of the way and had ducked in time so that the bat’leth hit the side of the door, wedging itself in the much-splintered woodwork.

“Time to go!” ordered Garak, yanking Julian along, and they sprinted to the car, Julian managing to still carry the pizza boxes and run at the same time. They both skittered into the Defiant, slamming the doors and Julian hastily starting it up, with Garak keeping an eye on the other Klingon who had pushed past his friend and was preparing to throw something at the car-

“We’re running out of time, Julian-“ but the car shuddered to life and Julian slammed his foot on the gas and they peeled away from the curb as a dull _thunk/splat_ hit the car.

“What the hell was that!?” Julian nearly stopped the car but Garak looked behind them and saw the Klingon still advancing, waving his hands angrily. 

“Keep going!”

Julian ran three stop signs and tore out onto the open road leading to a large intersection, far enough away from the Klingon house to breathe. Garak’s hand was becoming one with the grab handle.

“What was going on back there?” Julian’s face was wide-eyed in panic as he glanced around. 

“We caught them in the middle of a match for alpha dominance. That was particularly bad timing.” Garak tried to see what the Klingon had thrown at the car, but all he saw was a dark red smears on the back right window. “Pull over the next chance you get. Preferably near a car wash.”

Julian spotted one up ahead on the main stretch of Alpha City right before the major highway and pulled into it. They both stepped out of the car and inspected the right back window.

“Gagh,” noted Garak, peering closely at it. “Wistan gagh, if I’m not mistaken. You see, it’s soaked in targ blood.”

“Eurghhh.” Julian stepped back. “Well, at least it didn’t break the window. The plate it was on must have been plastic. But we have to get this off.”

“Well, we are at a car wash,” Garak pointed out wryly. “That seems to solve our problem.”

Julian frowned as he checked his tips. “I have enough to cover it, but I’ll have to get reimbursed by Mr. Sisko when we get back.”

“I’m sure he will.” Mr. Sisko had dealt with his fair share of rude Klingons in his day, and would likely understand. “Come, let’s go in.”

Returning to the car, they pulled up to the attendant who was waving cars through the wash. “Had an incident with a Klingon, did you?” she noted, seeing the worms sticking to the side of the car. The targ blood unfortunately glued them rather well to the window.

“Does this happen often?” asked Julian, counting out the bills needed to pay.

“This close to the main Klingon frathouse? Their victims are our biggest customers.” She took the bills and waved them through. “You’ll sit in the front for a few minutes while the first car finishes up. Let go of the steering when your car locks onto the tracks. Shouldn’t take more than five to seven minutes.”

They waited as the car locked onto the tracks, and the steady _whump whump_ of the cleaning mops. “God, this has been… odd,” laughed Julian, leaning back. He turned to Garak and smiled, calming down as they were ushered into the darkness. He offered a light smile in return as the light faded. For several seconds, there was silence, and Garak was still, very still. He never initiated. This was Julian’s turn to decide where this would go.

Julian unbuckled his seat belt and leaned over, nuzzling Garak’s nose lightly before kissing him softly on the lips.

They had kissed lightly before – very chaste, light kisses, but good kisses. Julian’s eyelashes brushed his cheeks, those warm brown hands slid into his and squeezed lightly ( _one day I’ll tell him what the means in Cardassia but oh, I can enjoy it for now…)_ and they sank into each other…

The car jerked as the wash began, and near-complete darkness enveloped them. Julian grew bolder and slid his arms around Garak, pulling him over to the driver’s seat. Garak swiftly unbuckled and followed Julian’s arms to where he wanted to be most.

The steady beat of the cloth wheels hitting the car provided odd background music, but Garak didn’t even notice those sounds when compared to Julian exhaling softly. Julian began to kiss more insistently, drawing them out longer and longer, his hands becoming more adventurous in the dark, boldly going where they hadn’t gone before. Garak sighed as they trailed down his back, up to his shoulders, pressing and squeezing and rubbing. Garak’s hands cautiously trailed up to Julian’s smooth neck,  moving up to the back of his head pressed against the window, pushing away the horrible polo shirt collar to find the warm curls to sink his fingers into-

Garak jerked- was that _water on his hands?_

They both were alarmed by the feel of cold water trickling down Julian’s neck, and Julian gasped as the window began to go down, prompted by his elbow pressing down the automatic window button. Water and soap poured into the car.

“Oh fuck!” yelped Julian, the moment completely broken, turning around and scrambling to find the automatic button in the dark, but the water kept pouring in and soon the window was halfway down and the cloth wheels were slapping him in the face, spraying water and suds everywhere.

“Ouch! Dammit!” Julian ducked to avoid the persistent red and white strips of cloth smacking him in the face over and over. “Where is the window button?”

Garak ducked beneath Julian’s flailing hands and felt up and down the door, looking for- there it was! “Move away from the window!”

Julian tried, and ended up just halfway slumping over onto Garak as Garak moved the window up, trying to avoid trapping any cloth strips or braids in the car. Once the window was up, they struggled to untangle from each other. Once situated, they stared at each other, completely at a loss for words.

Julian burst out laughing, and Garak couldn’t help but smile, and then, seconds later, joined in. Alone, in their little universe inside the sopping wet car, they laughed, and Julian grabbed Garak’s hands and pulled him forward and kissed him again, deeply, the soap and water running down his face and dripping into the cup holder below.

Then the dryer at the end of the car wash roared to life, and they looked up to see sunlight begin to fill the car.

\----------------------------------

“Well, we learned our lesson, didn’t we?” asked Julian as they sat on the curb outside of the apartments, using Jadzia’s portable blow dryer to dry out the driver’s seat. He waved it under the seat, peeking underneath for any wet spots. “Hey, I think we got it all.” He clicked the blow dryer off and set it to the side.

He slung the pizza box down behind them and scooted up on the curb next to Garak, opening the box. “Well, this isn’t quite the dinner plans we had in mind, but free pizza is free pizza. Mr. Sisko said we could have it.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, munching on the mushroom, pepperoni, and olive pizza. “Hm, I might have to try this combination more often. Thanks, Klingons,” said Julian, finishing off his third piece. “Thoughts, Garak?”

“Better than Wistan gagh,” replied Garak, giving Julian a wry smile.

“Yeah, they’re on our no-delivery list now.”

Somewhere, two Klingons were battling for dominance. A car wash attendant was collecting money from disgruntled victims of run-by gaghings. And two very happy people sat on a curb, leaning against one another, eating pizza- quiet, smiling, and content.

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of a rush fic so not really well edited. 
> 
> The Klingon came from www.kli.org, and the Cardassian swear from tinsnip's fics (I don't know how to acknowledge thanks for that so I gifted it?? So new to AO3!)
> 
> I hope people don't mind "The Wacky Adventures of Julian and Garak" because that's basically all I can write in the DD9 universe.


End file.
